


Initial Conditions

by out_there



Category: West Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-18
Updated: 2003-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The end result will always depend on the initial conditions."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Initial Conditions

**Author's Note:**

> This is set before, during and after _Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail_ because I mentally live in S2. Big thanks and hugs go to [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile)[**oxoniensis**](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/), who acted as both a beta-reader and cheerleader, even though it took me forever to finish.

A sleepless night is as long as a year. - Chinese proverb.

 

_Tuesday Night_

It was the urgent rapping on his door that woke Josh up. Stumbling out of bed, he cursed the insistent banging as he made his way to the door. Wrenching it open with a muttered "What the hell...", he found Sam.

"I was wrong."

"What?" Standing there in his boxers and t-shirt, Josh shivered at the draft from the doorway. He flicked on the light, telling Sam, "Get in. Come in. Whatever."

Sam took a few step inside, really only far enough to allow Josh to close the door behind him. "I was wrong."

Leaning against the wall with one hand, he replied, "For waking me up at this time? Yeah."

"What time is it?" Sam asked, looking slightly chagrined.

"It's..." Josh turned his wrist over, then looked back up to Sam. "It's late enough that I'm not wearing my watch. What's this about?"

Now that he had the chance to have a better look at Sam, he realized that Sam was right. There was something wrong. It wasn't Sam's clothes (dark suit, light shirt and a woolen coat covering it all); it was the way Sam was wearing them. His shoulders were hunched, his arms crossed tightly in front of him, his head bowed slightly. It was... wrong. Just wrong.

"You were asleep?"

"Yeah, it's what normal people do when it gets dark. Or so I've heard," Josh joked and watched the solemn, uncertain expression in Sam's blue eyes. "What was it that couldn't wait 'til morning?"

"I think I was wrong. I just... I needed you to know."

"If this is about the trade thing, yeah, I know. It's why we didn't go with your suggestion. It wouldn't have worked." He tried to stifle a yawn, but it escaped regardless.

Sam's eyes widened at the sound, and he looked around the room. "I shouldn't have... I'm sorry. Go back to bed. I'll see myself out."

"Nah. I'll make coffee, I'll be awake, we'll talk." Josh offered, managing to stifle his second yawn. "If it's dragged you over here, it must be important."

Sam shook his head. "It really isn't. I'll see you tomorrow," Sam said as he made his way to the door.

"Sam," he waited until Sam turned around before continuing. "I think that's technically today. Just, later today."

"I'm sorry." For a split second, he had the surreal conviction that Sam was about to cry. Then Sam opened the door and was gone in a gust of cold air and dark wool. Running a hand through his hair, Josh wondered if it was worth just going in to the office now, but decided he should at least make the pretence of attempting to get some sleep. He crawled back under his covers, and it felt like he'd only closed his eyes for a second when the shrill alarm urged him into the shower.

***

_Wednesday Night_

"Hey."

"Hey," Sam said, looking up from his screen as Josh wandered into his office and took the chair opposite him. Sam sat before a pile of files covering his desk, with his computer opened in front of him and a pad of paper covered in his clear, childish handwriting.

"Haven't seen you around today."

"I've been holed up in here. Working on the pardon recommendations." It was strangely reassuring to see and hear Sam like that, back to normal, but Josh couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He couldn't put his finger on it, couldn't have identified it if someone asked him. But still, there was... something.

"You still working?" Sam just nodded, typing something out, his dark head bent over the keyboard. "Gonna finish any time soon?"

"Umm... There's a lot of work here, Josh. I was planning on staying back tonight and getting a head start." Sam fingers clacked busily on the keys, the light from the white screen reflected in his glasses.

"Play truant. Grab something to eat with me."

Sam rustled through the papers on his desk, briefly looking up at Josh. "Why?"

"Well, for one thing, you can explain about last night." Josh grinned at Sam's embarrassed look.

"I really am sorry. I don't know what came over me." Earnest eyes and a bright flash of smile, and it should have been fine. It shouldn't have been putting Josh on edge.

"Well, you can make up for it by paying for food. Specifically, my food," Josh elaborated.

Sam should have laughed. Or at least smiled, but he only looked up with an expression of polite annoyance. "You're not going to leave until I agree to buy you dinner, is that it?"

"Yeah. C'mon. Get your coat and let's get out of here."

"Josh." Sam took his glasses off, and pinched his nose, but made no move to stand or tidy his desk.

"Yeah?" Josh queried, standing up.

"It's a lot of work to do."

He sighed. "Ainsley could help."

"No. I can do it." There was something there. Something about the determined flint to his voice, the steel in that blue gaze. It was in the tense set of Sam's shoulders, and the white knuckled grip on his pen. "Besides, she's working on Tribbey's list of recommendations. I get to review theirs afterwards."

"Then come back to the office later. Do it then. But come out with me now." Josh knew he'd won by the small defeated sigh, by the slouching of shirt-covered shoulders. He couldn't resist smirking and added, "Since you're paying, you might as well drive."

"Fine." At least that got a quick smile out of Sam, slightly too sharp around the edges but a smile nonetheless. Sam shrugged his shoulders into his dark coat and rifled in his briefcase, retrieving his wallet and keys.

Josh spared a quick glance at the cluttered desk. "You're not going to tidy your desk?"

"Nah. I'll come back in later and do it." Sam flicked off his office light, and then said, "Okay, let's go."

Sam strode down the hallways and past security in silence. Josh easily kept pace, occasionally glancing at his friend. Charcoal suit and pale grey shirt, and the strong line of Sam's jaw was tense. The movements just a little too controlled for Sam. He looked tired and a little stressed, almost as if he had been waiting for a fight all day, but none of the other staff seemed to notice. Josh wondered if maybe he was seeing something that wasn't there. A new side-effect of PTSD: jumping straight to mild panic when friends show up unannounced at your door. He had to smile at that thought.

Sam noticed the smile, asking, "What?" Josh just shook his head. How do you explain to someone that you think you may be developing a fear of unexpected visitors?

The night air was crisp as he waited for Sam to unlock his car doors. "C'mon man, it's freezing out here," Josh said, blowing on his hands as Sam managed to drop his keys and bent to pick them up.

"Why didn't you wear your coat?"

Josh jumped in the car the second the central locking clicked. "It was warm this morning. I didn't need it." Sam raised an eyebrow at this, so he continued. "Okay, I forgot it, and I figured it wasn't worth going back to get it. But it was warm this morning." Sam looked at him disbelievingly and started the car.

When they pulled up to a diner a few minutes later, Josh couldn't resist a wisecrack. "So we're dining _a la Denny's_? And I thought you had taste."

"You expected me to pay for an expensive meal for you?" Sam's tone was slightly incredulous but mischief gleamed in his eyes.

"I should have known better."

"Just be glad we're not getting hot dogs." As they stepped into the climate-controlled diner, Josh appreciated the warmth. Finding a booth near the window, they sat quickly, and for once Josh was surprised by speedy service. The waitress came up to them, a sandy blonde who looked like she'd barely started college, and impersonally asked for their order.

"Hamburger with the lot. Fries and a coffee." Josh ordered without looking at the menu. He'd had enough meals in these places to know they always have a hamburger with the lot, and that generally it was pretty good. Sam was still deliberating over the menu. "Are you ordering anytime soon?"

"So speaks he of the sensitive constitution." Sam said, without looking up.

"Yeah, well, that's alcohol, not food. Besides, which one of us has ordered?" Sam looked up and glared at him, but it had no real malice behind it. "C'mon, Sam, you're holding up," he paused for a second to read the waitress's nametag, "Michelle." The comment earned him a set of smiles, a sweet one from Michelle (nice to see the Lyman charm still working) and an indulgent one from Sam.

"Fine. Go ahead," Sam said, handing the menu to Michelle. "I'm at your gastronomical mercy."

He turned to Michelle and ordered. "Make that two hamburgers with the lot, with fries and coffee. One without onions," he finished, gesturing to Sam. After writing the order down, she left them alone.

"I can't believe you remembered I don't like onions on hamburgers." Sam sounded vaguely impressed.

"I remember a lot," Josh replied softly, and surprised himself. Shaking his head, he blamed it on the lack of sleep. He knew better than to allow conversations with Sam to become too... fond. "So what time did you get in this morning? Bonnie said you were in before her."

"Yeah. Couldn't get to sleep, so I decided to just go straight in. Might as well work if I'm awake." Sam looked down at the table, playing with the packets of sugar.

"So what was the big deal?"

Sam's head shot up, and there was a flash of surprise, or guilt, before he shook his head. "Nothing."

"You woke me up for nothing? In that case, you're a pretty lousy friend, Sam." Or maybe that should have been a pretty, lousy friend, Josh thought, watching the harsh lights play on Sam's rather classical bone structure. The guy had always been too attractive for his own good, and Josh was happy to be distracted from his thoughts by the arrival of food. The fries were a bit too hot, the coffee was a bit too cold, but the hamburger was good. "So?"

"It was just... You know how it is. You can't sleep, you toss and turn in the early hours of the morning, and then you have an epiphany. One of those late night revelations that makes perfect sense and you have the irrational urge to share it with someone."

"Well, now that I'm awake, please feel free to share," Josh said as he picked up his hamburger.

Sam picked at his fries, slowly eating one in three bites. "The Chaos Theory is right. You know about the Chaos Theory, right?"

Josh shook his head and swallowed. "Nope. I know as much about science as I do about wildlife. I make up for it with charm, good looks and a thorough knowledge of our political system."

"Well, the basic idea is that even in chaos, you find patterns. Sometimes the patterns are too extensive, or too infinitesimal, to be seen and understood, but they're still there." He watched Sam warm to his topic, occasionally pointing with his fries to draw attention to a point. "Even in the midst of absolute pandemonium, the universe still follows rules, there's still a system in place. It only looks chaotic to those outside."

Josh thought that pretty much described most of Washington. "And my knowledge of politics comes back into play. So basically, the universe is like Congress. It makes sense, but only if you know the rules it works by. Otherwise, it just looks like a mess."

Sam beamed at him. "Exactly. The system is always there, and even when things appear random, they're done for a reason. It follows a set course of probability, and everything within the system works towards that." Sam stopped for a sip of his coffee and grimaced at the taste. "However, the end result will always depend on what the rules are and the initial conditions. How it starts has a big effect on how it finishes."

"Okay... what? Run that by me again," Josh said, before biting into his hamburger.

"If you have the wrong initial conditions, the results will always be wrong. The universe follows the system but it relies upon the original circumstances. It's like doing a complex algebra equation and solving for x." Josh nodded at this comment; mathematics was something he could follow easily. "So, you get given the equation, and you know the rules. You apply the rules, and each step you take is reasoned and logical, but the answer is wrong. So what do you do?" Sam waited for Josh to speak.

"You sit down and do it again. Or look over what you've done to find the mistake." This was simple stuff. He wondered if he was actually going to have to solve an equation to prove Sam's point.

"You check your workings, and each step. Each step is right, but the answer's still wrong. It doesn't matter how many times you calculate it, or how many different ways you follow the rules, the result is still wrong."

Josh swallowed, and then asked, "Why?"

Sam sat up straight, leaning across the table a little as he continued. "Because when you were given the equation, you thought the eight was a six. So every time you worked it out, you applied the rules to the six and got the wrong solution. It doesn't matter how many times you try it, the answer will always be wrong because the initial conditions were wrong."

"In that case, Donna's handwriting was wrong. It wasn't anything to do with me," he joked.

"Exactly. You took the right steps and you did the best that you knew how to do. Each small choice that you made was right, but in the end, the final decision was always wrong. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't make it work, because you were always at a disadvantage." For a moment, Josh was mesmerized by the conviction, the certainty, in Sam's low voice. "You never knew how it should have been. So you couldn't make it right, regardless of how much you wanted to."

Then he had the sudden realization that Sam hadn't been talking about abstract theories. Josh hadn't been imagining that something was wrong. "What happened?"

Sam just shook his head, closing his eyes for a long second as he turned towards the window. "It doesn't matter." He stopped, and Josh could almost see Sam physically pull himself together. Then Sam looked down at the untouched hamburger sitting on his plate, the now cold coffee and the few scattered fries. "Josh, I'm really not hungry and I've got work to do..."

"Sam."

Sam didn't look at him, and just pulled his wallet out of his pocket. "I'll see you tomorrow, Josh," Sam said as he stood up to leave.

"Sam, could you give me a lift back?" He quickly emptied his cup, and picked up the last handful of fries.

Sam frowned slightly. "What?"

"I didn't drive out here. My car's back at the White House."

"Oh." Sam looked slightly shocked, as if he'd forgotten about that fact as he made his hasty retreat. "Sure. You ready to go?"

"Yeah." Josh stood up as Sam gave a twenty to the waitress, and then followed Sam to his car. "It's still freezing, you know." He said it because he couldn't think of anything else to say, but it was enough to make Sam look him in the eye and attempt a smile.

"Tomorrow morning, remember your coat."

"I'll do that," Josh said as Sam started the car. Sam was silent, concentrating on the road before him. The night was quiet and fairly empty, and it took Josh a while to work out what was missing. "Car radio broken again?"

Sam glanced across at him. "No. Why?"

"What happened to the classics of the 80s, 90s and today?" Sam's taste in music was always bland and commercial. Long road trips with the two of them had always included arguing over the quality of music and choice of station. Generally, Josh gave in, because watching Sam bop away to 80s pop music was more entertaining than listening to music with actual quality.

"Not in the mood for music, I guess."

The quiet in the car was starting to make Josh fidget. "Mind if I put it on?"

Sam gave him a sharp look. "Are you sure? I mean," Sam paused, then continued, "What about your whole music thing?"

Josh took that as permission and switched on the volume. "I, um, I don't have any trouble with pop music. It's just... everything else really. Classical, opera, any folk music you can name." He was weirdly embarrassed by that admission. It didn't matter that Sam wouldn't hold it against him. It still cost something to say aloud.

He distracted himself by flipping through Sam's preset stations. Rock ballad, something by The Cure, Celine Dion, and then some modern boy group. Josh decided to take his chances on The Cure. "You have the crappiest radio selections. You know that right?"

"Yeah," Sam answered distractedly.

They continued in an uncomfortable silence, the chirpy sound of synthetic pop filling the car. A song later (some R&amp;B thing from the early 90s, but Josh wasn't sure what), Sam spoke.

"You know, I expected you to come to me before you put your hand through a window. If things went really wrong, I expected you to let me know."

"I couldn't." The answer sounded dismissive, but how could you explain the fear that Sam wouldn't want to know? Or that Sam would listen to the evidence and come to the same conclusion he did; that he was losing his mind; that he wasn't fit to work in the White House.

"Why not?"

"It..." Josh trailed off, running a hand through his hair. (It was the hand that had several pale scars running across the palm.) "It would have made it too real."

"It was real, Josh."

"Yeah, but... As long as I didn't admit it to anyone, I could convince myself that I could deal with it, keep it under control." Sam just waited patiently, didn't say that Josh really hadn't been able to cope at all. "If I told someone, it would become real. It would be real enough to lose my job."

"I wouldn't have let that happen."

"I know. I just..." Josh swallowed, and then forced the words out. "I just wasn't so sure at the time." Then Sam took a left when he should have turned right, and Josh was distracted. "Where are you going?"

"Your place."

"And my car?"

"Oh. I'll turn around." Second time tonight Sam had been too distracted to remember basic arrangements. There had to be something on his mind.

"Nah. Just drop me home. I can walk in tomorrow. It'll be good for me." His tone sounded wrong; it tried hard to be light-hearted but it was too tight, too tense.

"Okay." Sam pulled over in front of Josh's building but remained silent. The moment stretched uncomfortably.

Taking a deep breath, Josh admitted, "I couldn't tell anyone Sam, not just you."

"Would you have told me? If you could?" Sam asked softly.

"I..." He had to pause before he replied, because honestly, he wasn't sure if he would have.

"It's okay," Sam said, but clearly it wasn't, and he hated to hear Sam sound so hurt.

"It was a one-off thing. It's not like I get shot everyday."

Sam flinched. "It's not that." Sam turned to him but stared past him at the entrance to Josh's building. "I hate that we're like this. We don't talk anymore Josh. We can't. We can't confide in each other." Sam turned back to the road in front of them.

"You know it's not that simple. If I went to you, if I told you, I wouldn't just want you to listen." If he went to Sam, he'd have wanted to be consoled and to be distracted. He'd have wanted to be reassured with Sam's soft mouth, with firm hands that knew him inside and out.

"You could have come to me." Sam's fingers drummed a nervous rhythm against the steering wheel, but Sam didn't take his eyes off the cars parked in front of them.

"Sam..."

"You should have."

Josh sighed. "We agreed that we couldn't do that anymore."

"No, I said that I couldn't do it." As if that even mattered.

"Same difference. It doesn't matter who brought it up, we both agreed."

Sam reached over and turned off the music, still avoiding eye contact. "What if I was wrong?"

"Nothing's changed, Sam."

"I know." Blue eyes bored into his and Sam said softly, "But I think I was wrong."

Josh gave in to his first reaction and turned away, staring as if the right answer was written on the deserted sidewalk. He had the urge to tell Sam that they couldn't do this. They'd made a deal and he'd stuck by it, even when he was being torn apart at the seams. He'd followed the rules, done the right thing. It wasn't fair to tell him now. However, what came out of his mouth was a very heartfelt, "Fuck."

"Yeah." Sam breathed a pale imitation of a chuckle. "I'm sorry Josh."

Now last night made more sense. Josh knew if he thought about it for a bit, he'd work out where the algebra equation fit in too, but at the moment his mind was trying to figure out what the hell Sam would have said last night. If Josh hadn't been half asleep.

"Fuck." Really, it was as far as he could think at the moment. There was something absurd about the entire situation; hearing a confession like that while sitting in a car, staring at his front door while Sam stared at him. He could see Sam's reflection in the window, with defeated dark eyes; his face half covered in shadow and his skin bleached pale by the street light.

Hell, Sam hadn't looked this hopeless when he'd come to Josh over a year ago and stated that he couldn't do this anymore; that he wouldn't let it become some shameful political secret. It had hurt, and they'd discussed it like the intelligent, mature men they pretended to be, but Sam had certainly done it in true Seaborn style. Confident and convincing because one look in his eyes and you knew he believed in what he was saying. Sam knew that it was the right thing to do, that it was best for both of them, and Josh had let himself be persuaded.

But right now, Sam just looked lost.

"I'm not talking about this in a car. C'mon." Josh got out of the car, then leaned back in to hiss at Sam, "Come upstairs. Now."

Sam nodded and followed him after locking the car. Josh trudged up the stairs, barely waiting for Sam or caring about how much noise he was making. He was furious at Sam for making him feel like this. He couldn't believe Sam had the nerve to just say he was wrong, as if that fixed everything. Over twelve months of trying not to think about it, of convincing himself that Sam was right, that it was a bad political decision, that at least this way they were still friends, and all it took was one sentence from Sam to turn that upside down. To make him wonder what had been the point of the last year. And just one look of too-wide blue eyes, and he still had that same compulsion to fix it, to make Sam feel better, to make Sam smile. Sometimes, he wondered if he had "sucker" tattooed across his forehead.

Opening his apartment door, he was mentally preparing a list of all the reasons why it was unfair for Sam to do this now, why it still wouldn't work, why Sam couldn't just expect him to fix everything. He let them both in, then closed and locked the door, turning to face Sam. He was still concentrating on his inner monologue of objections when he felt his back slammed into the door with Sam's body tight against him.

Sam's lips were warm and wet against his, and he opened his mouth under the assault, feeling a hand clutch the back of his neck as the kiss deepened. He swore it was instinct that made him react; it was just habit to wrap his arms around Sam's shoulders and pull him closer, to part his legs slightly and press against Sam.

It wasn't habit that made him groan when Sam rocked against him, or made him twist his fingers in the soft hair at the nape of Sam's neck, to pull Sam to a better angle for kissing. He devoured Sam's mouth, as Sam's hands moved urgently, pushing off his jacket and tugging at his shirt buttons. Josh stopped thinking about old habits altogether and just felt the pull of Sam's fingers as Sam undid button after button, pulling the fabric of the shirt apart, as Josh loosened his tie and dropped it on the floor.

There were sucking kisses and gentle bites along his jaw line, then a slow lick across his stubble-covered cheek before Sam was tugging at his earlobe with his teeth. Sam's hands were still chilled from outside, cold fingers running across his chest, outlining his ribs, skating over the pale scar, pausing to twist nipples _just_ hard enough to make Josh's moaned "Oh, fuck..." come out far louder than intended. He could feel Sam's low laugh vibrating in his chest, moist air echoing in his ear.

He lost the ability to retaliate when Sam's hands delved under the cotton at his back, raking short nails down his shoulder blades, and Sam bit down on his collarbone, sucking harshly. Fuck, Sam was good at this. He was clinging to Sam's shoulders and groaning, because Sam knew. Knew he loved sex hard and fast, knew where he was sensitive, knew that he still had a fondness for hickeys, as immature and impractical as they were. Sam knew him and Sam was using it to drive him crazy.

He was pressing up against Sam, rubbing against him, seeking as much friction as he could, as Sam's hands came forward around his hips, pushing him back. His whined protest was muffled by Sam's tongue invading his mouth, hot and messy. Sam's hands were playing up and down his thighs, running across his stomach, teasing just above his belt. He growled in the back of his throat and Sam took pity on him, pulling off Josh's belt, swiftly undoing his fly. Sam gently squeezed him through his boxers, then pushed the layers of clothing down past his hips, and started to slowly jerk him off.

It was too slow, but it was firm and Sam's hands were warm. A vast improvement on not having Sam's hand there, but still not enough. He tried to tell Sam this but all that came out was a litany of curses, mumbled against the salty skin of Sam's neck and the soft wool of his coat. Sam kept up the deliberate pace, even as Josh thrust his hips against him, tried to force him to go quicker, pleading for faster, harder, more, now.

"Sam, please!" Josh hissed through clenched teeth as Sam trailed sharp bites across his chest, detouring to suck at a nipple, running his tongue around it and over it, again and again. When the swift bite came, Josh heard his head hit the door with an audible thud.

His hands flew to Sam's wrist when Sam's hand stilled and pulled away.

"Wait," Sam drawled with obvious promise before he pulled back, peeled off his coat and dropped it in a folded mess at his feet. Then Sam slipped to his knees and Josh saw the reason for the coat. Falling to your knees was ridiculous on a hard surface, and Josh could remember Sam having bruises for a week after one particularly clumsy attempt. Sam balanced one hand against Josh's hip and wrapped the other around his cock, as Sam ran his tongue across the slit, and then took the head into his mouth.

Nobody could say Sam was easy to forget. A sharp mind and sincere ideals, shockingly blue eyes and a blinding smile. He was highly memorable. But it was impossible to forget Sam like this. On his knees in front of Josh, eyes hungry with desire, that pretty mouth stretched around his cock. Impossible to forget the serious look through his dark lashes, or the cheekbones standing out above hollowed cheeks. The way Sam's throat moved as he swallowed, the way that Josh's hands carded through Sam's dark hair. Getting a blow job from Sam was almost as much of a visual thrill as a carnal pleasure.

He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears; the harsh sound of his breathing almost drowned out the slightly obscene, wet noises coming from Sam. It was hot, and it was _Sam_, and it was so good. He tried to tell Sam this, but his entire vocabulary seemed to be made up of "God, please, Sam." And when Sam started to hum something low and tuneless under his breath, it was perfect and it was too much. He was helpless to do anything other than grab Sam's shoulders and just give in to it. Bury himself deep in that insistent, talented mouth and let everything go.

His first thought upon coming back to his senses was to hope that he hadn't yelled Sam's name too loudly. It would be... highly embarrassing, to say the least. Leaning against the door, his legs trembled as he still panted for breath. He realized that it was probably only Sam's hands against his hips that were keeping him standing, and he let himself slide to the floor.

His back against the door and his legs bent to either side of Sam's, he pulled Sam towards him until he was leaning over Josh with one hand braced against the door. It was somewhat awkward, but it did bring Sam's neck close enough to nuzzle. He meant to say that Sam had no idea how good that was, how much he'd missed the sex between them, but all that came out was "...missed you..."

Sam didn't reply, just pulled him into a kiss, slow and smoldering. Josh ran a hand down Sam's now wrinkled shirt and felt Sam shiver against him. He brushed his fingers over the pale material, tracing the seams and toying with the buttons. Swallowing Sam's soft whimper, Josh stopped teasing him and fumbled with Sam's belt. The sound of the zipper rasped loudly between them.

He wrapped his hand around Sam's cock, the smooth, warm weight familiar to his sweaty palm. He tried to ignore the awkward angle and concentrated on keeping a steady rhythm, but from Sam's frustrated groan he realized it wasn't enough. Then Sam moved and raised himself higher on his knees, changing the angle and buried his head against Josh's shoulder. Sam was thrusting in and out of Josh's hand, fucking his fist, one hand against the wooden door, the other clawed into Josh's shoulder. Josh heard the muffled groans grow louder as Sam's movements became more frantic.

Shuddering, Sam bit down hard on his shoulder, and then stilled, collapsing against Josh's left side. Josh wrapped an arm around Sam's back, wiping his other hand on his shirt. "I'm guessing we're both going to the drycleaners tomorrow."

Sam chuckled against his collar and lazily shifted to a more comfortable position. Half sitting and half lying across him, Sam mumbled, "Yeah?"

"Otherwise, that coat of yours will never be the same." Sam just snorted at his comment and pressed a sloppy kiss against his throat. Pushing back strands of damp hair from Sam's forehead, Josh said, "Planning on moving any time soon?"

"Nah..." Sam replied, then lifted his hand to cover Josh's lips. "Shhh..."

"Okay," Josh whispered into Sam's hair and relaxed against the door, slipping into a light, dreamless doze.

He woke up a while later to an aching back and Sam trying to carefully sit up. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I think you did me a favor," Josh said as he stretched his neck from side to side, and realized he had a painful tingling in his right leg. "When did sex on the floor become this painful?"

"I think it had something to do with turning thirty." Sam smiled, and then grimaced as he looked down at himself. "I need a shower." Sam slowly got to his feet, and reached down, offering a hand to Josh.

Josh took the offered assistance, and rose with a groan. "You and me both. You want to go first?"

Sam nodded, and headed into the bathroom, while Josh had a quick look around for his tie. He picked up Sam's coat, and hung it over the back of a chair, limping slightly from the pins and needles in his legs. He picked up his own jacket and took it into the bedroom with him, noting the late hour. They must have slept for longer than he realized, which would explain why his back felt as if he'd never stand up straight again. He peeled out of his rumpled clothes and grabbed a clean towel from the cupboard, heading into the bathroom as he heard the shower stop.

Sam looked up and smiled as Josh handed him a towel. "Thanks," Sam said, as he walked out of the room with his clothing bundled in his arms.

Josh stepped into the shower, fumbling with the taps to get the water right, and ran his fingers through his hair, enjoying the water pressure against his scalp. He stretched under the warm water, willing his aching muscles to relax. Reaching over for the soap, he started to wash half-heartedly, his movements slow and sleepy.

It was the quiet sound of his front door closing that made him finally get out, seizing a towel as he passed. Looking around the room, there was no coat and no Sam, but there was a note sitting on the kitchen bench.

_"Thought it was best if I didn't stay the night. Sam"_

He scrunched the note into a ball, and threw it into the bin. Sam was right. It would just be foolish for him to stay. Still, it grated that Sam hadn't said goodbye, it wouldn't have killed the man to stay for another few minutes... Shaking his head sleepily, Josh resolved to talk to Sam about it tomorrow.

***

_Thursday Night_

It was almost a quarter to five when Josh stuck his head around Sam's door with a friendly nod. "Hey."

Sam looked up over his glasses. "I thought you had meetings all day?"

Josh shrugged and walked further into the small office. "I did. Rickman cancelled."

"Leo's not going to be happy about that," Sam predicted with a thoughtful frown as he placed his pen down on the desk.

"Donna rescheduled it for tomorrow." Sam raised an eyebrow, silently asking the obvious question. Josh smirked. "I checked with Leo. He told me to go ahead."

"So," Sam said slowly, "Your appointment for Big Block of Cheese Day is a meeting you would have had anyway?" Josh nodded and Sam continued. "That seems very… convenient."

"Nah. Just coincidental. I'm a very lucky man, Sam Seaborn." As far as Josh figured it, he was still owed some good karma for Roslyn, but between this and last night, Josh was willing to waive the debt. Or most of it, at least. "Still working on the OPA reviews?"

"Ainsley brought over Tribbey's recommendations. I'm working on those." Josh made himself comfortable in one of Sam's chairs and Sam sent him a questioning look. "Don't you have work you could be doing?"

"There's always something I could be doing," Josh replied with a cheeky grin, leaning back. "I just don't want to do it right now."

Sam shuffled some of the papers on his desk. "Well, I have work I need to do," he said sourly, reaching for his pen.

"Care to explain the bad mood?" Sam didn't reply. "I would have thought that after last night-"

"Josh!" Sam hissed at him, his cheeks tinged pink. Grinning, Josh got up and quietly closed the door. Leaning against the closed door, he turned back to Sam.

"Come on, Sam. Talk to me."

Sam put down his pen, and intense blue eyes looked up at Josh. "What about?" Sam asked warily.

"How about the reason behind you pouncing last night?"

Dark brows rose. "Are you complaining?" There was something darker hiding under Sam's bemused look. "Because I could just not do that again."

"No." Josh couldn't have stopped the goofy smile if he tried. "I'm not complaining." He could feel the corners of his mouth stretching into the same happy grin that had greeted him in the mirror that morning. It was the same smug smile he saw beaming back at him every time he remembered why his back was sore and why he had bruises, and bite marks, on his shoulders. "I just want to know what brought it on." Sam was quiet, so he winked and added, "In case it was something I did, so I'd know to repeat it."

Sam shrugged, but didn't say a word.

For such a talkative guy, Sam could be very uncommunicative when he wanted to. "Or, we could maybe talk about why you've had a dozen calls from your father during the last two days." That got a reaction.

"It was seven." Sam visibly paled, and stared at the small pile of pink message slips sitting on his desk. "Not a dozen. How did you know?"

"Donna. She came in and asked if there was anything she ought to know. She was worried about you." Josh realized that might not have been the best way to phrase that. Running a hand over his head, he amended, "Well, I was worried too. Am worried. Jeez, Sam, just tell me already."

"There's nothing to worry about. It's not a big thing." Sam didn't look fragile, so much as brittle. As if he was holding himself together, cracks and all, by will power alone.

"Then tell me about it," Josh said as he walked over and sat opposite Sam. "There's your two choices of conversation topics. Either talk about last night or talk about your family." Personally, Josh hoped Sam would pick the former. Sam usually wasn't quite so abrupt, so impulsive, and it would be nice to know if last night was Sam's version of one for old times' sake. Or if it this had more… promise to it.

So, of course, Sam picked the latter. "My Mom's filing for a divorce."

"What? You can't be serious. Your parents are…" He trailed off at the hurt look in Sam eyes. Your parents are so right for each other. That was what he was going to say. Or maybe, your parents are so in love with each other.

Josh knew that his own parents had loved each other devotedly, but they had also argued and bickered. There had even been a few outright screaming matches just after Joanie was gone. They always made up, and compromised, but he could still remember the petty insults.

Sam's parents didn't do that. They didn't fight, or bicker, or whatever you wanted to call it. They discussed problems and came to an agreement. Sam's father still bought flowers for his wife for no reason, still surprised her with little gifts and fancy dinners. They were the type of couple who always looked right together.

"How long…?" Josh wasn't sure how to do this, how to talk about parents breaking up, but he figured this gave him a place to start.

Sam swallowed, then said softly, "Twenty-eight years."

"They've been talking about getting a divorce for twenty-eight years?" That was unbelievable. Josh was sure that Sam would have mentioned it to him before now.

"No. The divorce is just… It's… They've…" Sam stopped, eyes wide, and took a deep, shuddering breath. "He's had an apartment in Santa Monica… A woman in Santa Monica. For twenty-eight years."

"Oh, Sam." He leaned across the desk, and saw the photo half covered by papers. It must have been taken back when Sam was in Princeton. His father stood squarely in a navy suit, while his mother laughed in a pale floral dress. Sam was standing between the two, a combination of both of them, his father's wide jaw and dark hair, his mother's blue eyes and charming smile.

"It's not… I mean, I'm thirty-six, it's not exactly…" Sam's voice was choked with emotion. "It shouldn't be a thing."

"When did you find out?"

"Tuesday." Sam must have caught the reaction on his face. "That's not why I came over."

"It's okay, Sam." He forced himself to look up into Sam's guilty expression. "You don't have to justify yourself."

Sam insisted earnestly, "It's not that, Josh. It had an effect, but it's not…"

Sam was interrupted by a swift rapping on his window, and Josh swiveled in his chair to see Donna standing there, gesturing at her watch. He shooed her away with a quick wave of his hand and waited until she left before he checked Sam's clock. He sighed as the clock confirmed Donna's worry. "I've gotta go. I'm about to be late for a meeting."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, nodding distractedly and turning back to his pad of paper.

"Are you okay?"

Sam's answering smile was tight. "I'll be fine."

Josh paused as he opened the door, "Are you working late tonight?"

"Probably," Sam said and looked up. "Why?"

"I've got meetings until nine thirty. Possibly later. Do you want me to check in if you're still around when I'm done?" Sam looked a bit surprised, and Josh added, "We could get a drink or something."

"No. I've really… I have to get this done." Sam sounded apologetic but determined. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, tomorrow," Josh echoed as Donna came up to him with the necessary files. Walking towards his office, he thought of something. "Tell them I'll be there in a minute, Donna."

Donna looked skeptically at him. "You'd better be, Josh," she said as she walked off.

He walked back around to Sam's office and popped his head around the door. "How about we go for a drink tomorrow? After work, the usual place?"

Sam looked up at him and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," Josh repeated and headed off to his meeting.

***

_Friday Night_

Josh handed the money to the barman and picked up his two beers. Pressing through the noisy crowd, he made his way through the smoky bar to their table. Sam and Donna were sitting opposite each other, heads bent over the table and laughing at something. Toby sat between them and rolled his eyes at some drunken comment. Sam had joined them half an hour late, missing Stef's early retreat to her hotel room, but he'd wasted no time in catching up to Donna's state of tipsy merriment.

Josh held the beers up as he approached the joyful groups and announced, "I return victorious."

Sam and Donna turn to him, then shared a look and raised their almost-empty glasses. "To victory!" They cried in unison, as they clinked their glasses and drained them.

Toby raised an eyebrow at Josh as he sat down. "You really think these two needed more alcohol?"

Donna glared at Toby. "Hey, you're still drinking."

"I haven't drunk as much as either of you."

"But you're drinking scotch, which is more intixos… intoxish… alcoholic than beer," Sam emphasized his argument by tapping on the table. "Hence, volume shouldn't matter."

Donna supported him with an enthusiastic, "Yeah."

"If you can't pronounce intoxicating you've had too much to drink, Sam," Toby said in mock-seriousness as he reached across the table and took the two beers from them. Josh expected them to grab the glasses back but instead they both turned to him. Donna was blinking and giving him puppy-dog eyes, her lower lip almost trembling, but Sam's devastated pout was adorable.

"Josh…" Sam started, and then Donna continued. It was tag-team whining.

"Toby took our beers."

"Come on Toby. Give them back their drinks." Toby made a show of reluctantly setting the glasses in front of Sam and Donna, and Josh had to stifle laughter at the twin smiles that lit up their faces.

"To Josh!" The full glasses splashed over their hands and the table as they cheered him.

Josh passed each of them a napkin as Toby added snidely, "Because, obviously, these two needed another drink."

"It's just one beer. It won't kill either of them."

"Well, make it their last. Otherwise we'll be carrying them home," Toby said and then had the last sip of his scotch. "I'm going to get our coats."

"Okay." As Toby walked away, Josh found himself thinking over the day's events. Regardless of how much Toby grumbled about the protestors, he actually had been very impressive and he'd told Donna as much. In return, Donna had told them about Sam and how much he'd done to try to prove that Stephanie's grandfather was innocent. Apparently, Sam had been pretty upset when he'd found out that he was guilty, but Donna had convinced him not to tell Stephanie. Her father was dying, Donna had explained, and he just needed some hope.

Rousing himself from his thoughts, Josh looked over at his drunken companions. Donna had only an inch or so left in her glass, while Sam stared at his empty glass mournfully.

"I'm out of alcohol," Sam announced, looking over at Josh.

Since Donna stayed silent, Josh replied. "Yeah?"

"My glass is empty, Josh." Sam proved this by holding the glass in question upside down.

"I know."

"It isn't fair," Sam decided.

"What are you talking about?" He shouldn't encourage a drunken Sam, but sometimes it was hard to resist.

"It isn't fair," Sam repeated, as if that sentence explained everything. "Donna still has beer and I don't. It isn't fair."

"Maybe it's because you drink faster than her?"

Sam looked mortally offended. "I do not!" Donna looked up at Sam's outcry, and then went back to swirling her drink around her glass.

"Do you have a better theory?" Josh asked, looking around and wondering where in the world Toby had got to.

"I think…" Sam looked serious for a moment and then he said slowly, "I think you bought her more beer."

Josh had to smile at that. "Okay, your glasses are the same size. They cost the same, they contained the same amount of alcohol." Sam scowled at him doubtfully. "Why the hell would I buy her more than you?"

"Because Donna's pretty and perky," Sam started, and was interrupted by Donna's cheerful, "Thanks, Sam."

Sam gave her an annoyed look, and continued. "And you like pretty and perky. You always have." Sam punctuated each 'you' by poking Josh's shoulder, hard. Josh was starting to think that Toby had been right. These two really didn't need that last beer.

"Okay, so Donna's pretty and perky. That doesn't mean…"

"Aha! You admit it," Sam crowed, poking Josh's shoulder again.

"Aha? Who says that? Outside of cheap mystery novels and kids cartoons?"

Sam crossed his arms defensively. "I say it. And I'm still right." Josh fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"But Sam, you're perky too," Donna chimed in. "Ginger says you're downright chirpy in the mornings. And you're pretty."

Sam shook his head. "It's not the same."

"You're a very pretty man, Sam," she stated, leaning forward.

Josh felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see Toby with the coats over an arm.

"What'd I miss?" Toby asked as he passed Josh his coat.

"Donna's trying to convince Sam that he's both pretty and perky," he replied conspiratorially. Toby snorted.

Donna turned to Toby insisting, "He is."

"It doesn't count," Sam said definitively.

"Why not?" Donna asked, taking a sip of her beer.

"It's not the same kind of pretty." Sam paused, probably gathering his thoughts. Donna pouted at his comment, toying with a strand of blonde hair. "I mean, it's not the kind that convinces guys to give me free drinks."

"Let me get this straight," Toby said, watching Sam, "You're upset that you're not pretty enough for guys to buy you drinks?"

Sam nodded his head. "Yeah."

Toby turned to Josh, "As Sam's good friends, I think we have an obligation to remind him of this conversation when he's sober."

Josh laughed. "Oh yeah. It's pretty much a sacred duty."

Sam looked at Josh with hurt eyes. "So you did buy Donna more?" Then Sam yelped and glared at Donna, as he leaned down to rub his leg.

Donna looked up contritely. "Sorry, Sam. That was meant for Josh."

Josh barely managed to contain his snicker. "Okay, kids. Before this gets any more violent, let's straighten some thing out. Firstly, you shouldn't kick people under tables. It's not nice, Donna." Sam nodded at this but Donna just stuck her tongue out at him. "Secondly, I bought both of you a beer. You are both my friends and I plied you with equal amounts of free alcohol."

"What about Toby?" Donna interrupted, point at Toby, or at least in the generally direction of Toby's chair.

"What about Toby?" Josh blinked at Donna, trying to follow her line of thought. That wasn't easy when she was completely sober.

"I'm your friend," Toby clarified, "And you haven't bought me any free alcohol."

"Well you, my friend, are neither pretty nor perky," Josh replied with a dry grin.

"Thank god."

Toby's relieved reply was almost drowned by Donna's stage-whisper to Sam. "See? Josh thinks you're pretty too."

Josh decided to ignore that comment and continued, "And thirdly, it's time for all drunk friends to go to bed now."

Thankfully, they managed to get Sam and Donna out of there with a minimum of fuss. Forcing them into their coats, he and Toby shepherded the pair outside and hailed a cab. The only momentary trouble came when Donna jumped back out of the cab and ran over to Sam with an incoherent apology.

"I'm really sorry, Sam. About today. I mean, I didn't mean it… I'm just sorry." Josh remembered Donna mentioning that she regretted telling Stef to flatter Sam, but she hadn't told him the details.

It would have taken a far stronger man than Josh to stay mad in the face of such heartfelt and emphatic regret. He was strangely proud that Sam couldn't either. Sam just wrapped her in his arms and murmured into her hair. "It's okay, Donna."

They stayed like that for a few seconds, then Donna pulled back and briefly kissed Sam's cheek before happily getting into the cab with Toby. Josh wasn't sure whether or not he should have been jealous. He watched the cab pull away, then turned and held his hand out to Sam, palm upwards. "Keys?"

"Huh?" Sam looked at his empty hand. "I don't have your keys."

"No, yours," Josh said and made a 'gimme' gesture with his hand. "You're way too drunk to drive. Luckily, I'm both sober and car-less."

"Okay," Sam agreed and started rifling through his pockets. Josh took a few steps closer to Sam, and waited for him to finish his search. As he took another step forward, Sam stopped and smiled up at him. "Hey, you remembered your coat."

Josh shrugged. Obviously, non-sequiturs just happened more frequently when the staffers got drunk. "Well, with the protests, I walked in this morning. It was too cold to forget it."

Sam nodded slowly and then grinned as he drew his keys out of his trouser pocket, and handed them over to Josh.

He took the keys from Sam. "Great. So, where's the car?" Josh scanned the area around them. It was unlikely that Sam had found a parking space so close to the entrance, but it was worth a shot.

Sam's brows lowered in concentration. "You don't know?"

"You parked it, Sam," Josh chided, realizing that Sam's car wasn't in sight.

"Can you see a Starbucks?" Sam blinked blearily.

"What? Why?" He turned and stared at Sam. "I don't think coffee will help."

"I can remember parking near the Starbucks." Sam spoke slowly, as if uncertain. "I'd just talked to Dad. I needed a coffee before I met up with all of you." Sam paused, then added, "Just to clear my head."

Josh looked around and spotted the Starbucks at the end of the road. "Come on," he said, wrapping an arm around Sam's shoulders. It was as much a gesture of comfort as a way to stop Sam stumbling. They walked in silence down the street. The faint sounds of the crowds became a comfortable background noise and Sam's shoulder was warm and solid under his hand. They'd almost reached the glass front doors before Josh recognised Sam's car, parked right across the street. He steered them over in that direction and Sam quietly followed.

"He said he never meant to hurt me."

Josh fingered the keys in hand and looked down as he unlocked Sam's car. "Well, he probably didn't." Sam looked over at him, surprised, before getting into the passenger seat. Josh felt himself shrug and clarified, "Generally, people don't set out to hurt other people. It just happens."

Sam crossed his arms. "That's a lousy excuse."

"Yeah," Josh said, and started the car. "But it's true."

"That… That just sucks." Sam settled back into the chair and didn't say anything more for the rest of the journey. Josh let the radio fill the car, concentrating on the well lit road in front of them. He tried to focus on driving, but his thoughts kept wandering back to Sam, who was leaning against the window, curled up on himself. They were halfway back to Sam's apartment before he realized Sam was fast asleep.

Josh was smart guy; there wasn't a lot he didn't get. Okay, generally, he didn't get women, or the appeal of the Discovery Channel, or MTV, or the Emmy's, but most things, he could figure out. He knew how to convince someone and how far you needed to push before they gave up. He knew those telltale signs when you've almost won, the little things that give people away.

A week ago, he would have said he knew the same things about Sam. He'd known the guy for years, he knew the issues that set Sam off on a rant, he knew Sam's favorite book and he knew where Sam was ticklish. A week later and he wasn't so sure how well he knew Sam at all.

Josh still wasn't quite sure what was going on. There were the obvious things, Sam's parents divorcing and his father's dishonesty, but there was something else, and it bugged Josh that he really had no idea what it was. He suddenly realized that he'd always relied on Sam to tell him. They were friends, or lovers, or more recently, something in between the two, and he didn't have to guess or scrutinize everything. He could relax around Sam, which wasn't something he'd ever been able to say about a lot of people.

He pulled over in front of Sam's building and stopped the car. Sam showed no signs of waking up, so he leaned across and ran the back of his hand across Sam's cheek. Sam awoke with a start and stared at him as he pulled his hand back.

"You're home," he said and tilted his head towards the building.

Sam looked over and blinked, then turned back to him. "Thanks, Josh." He sat there, rubbing his temples and slowly waking himself up. "Just give me a minute."

"Okay."

Sam was quiet for a while, and then asked, "Everyone lies, don't they?"

Josh had expected something along the lines of why alcohol was always a bad idea, or how bad Sam was going to feel in the morning, so Sam's question surprised him. "What?"

"I mean, everyone knows there's some situations when it's better to lie." Sam paused, breathing slowly and picked imaginary lint from his trousers. "People lie, Josh. People do it all the time. So how are you supposed to tell what's true? Or who's trustworthy if everyone…?"

"You just do. You pick someone, and you trust them. And sometimes they hurt you, they don't mean to, but they do." He ran a hand through his hair and wished that he knew what Sam was searching for. "If you care about them enough, you give them a second chance. Sometimes it takes a third chance, or a fourth, but if you care, you don't give up on them."

"Do you really believe that?" Sam asked, watching him carefully.

"Yeah, I do." He just hadn't realized that he did.

After a moment, Sam said, "You know what's worst about this? About this whole thing?"

"What?" he asked warily. He wasn't enjoying this conversation at all. He'd had worse conversations, but not with Sam.

"The thing, that I'm most upset about, is that he lied. That he lied to me."

It only took Josh a second to realize what Sam was talking about. "Sam, it's not…"

"I'm disappointed that he lied to Mom, for years, but I'm angry that he lied to me." Sam chuckled, a hurt, cynical sound that just seemed wrong coming from Sam. "Mom got a selfish, self-centered husband. It must be incredibly bad luck to have a son just the same."

"You're just hurt, Sam," he said soothingly. "And you've got a right to be pretty damn angry at him." Right now, Josh was pretty angry at the guy too. Sam had always hero-worshipped his father and it was terrible to see him so emotionally shattered. "You trusted your Dad and he lied to you. You certainly shouldn't feel guilty about it."

"Everyone lies. It's not anything new." Sam shrugged hopelessly. "I did, today. To Donna's friend."

"Stephanie? With the Gault thing?" Donna hadn't told him about that.

"Yeah. I lied to her and told her that I thought we could get a pardon for her grandfather next time. We won't, we can't. He was guilty and I looked at her, and I couldn't tell her the truth. So I lied to her to make her feel better, to make her dying father feel better. I spared her feelings, and I don't feel guilty about that. I think I did the right thing." Josh just stayed quiet. He wasn't even sure where Sam was leading with this. "I lied, and it was the right thing to do," Sam finished, quiet and disappointed.

"Do you want to go inside?"

Sam shook his head gently and grimaced. "Not really. I've been avoiding my machine."

"Oh." Josh pulled the keys out of the ignition and played with them in his hand. "Well, how about you ignore the machine from your bedroom?"

"I don't want to talk to him again. Not like this." Sam ran a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair back. "I'll say something I'll regret later."

It took Josh a second to realize Sam was talking about his father. "Then we'll make it easy." Sam looked over at him hopefully. "We'll unplug the phone."

There was a second of silence while Sam studied him carefully. "Okay," Sam said, nodding, and got out of the car, making his way to the front door. Josh got out too and unlocked the front door, holding it open for Sam with a mocking flourish as Sam walked inside. Closing the door, he heard Sam mutter behind him, "I'm sorry about all this, Josh. I know I'm just… I know this isn't a big thing…"

Turning, Josh ran his hand across Sam's shoulder until his hand rested around the back of Sam's neck. "I meant what I said." He leaned closer to Sam, until there were barely inches between them. "You're allowed to be angry and to be hurt." He could feel Sam's neck tensing beneath his fingers. "And no one has the right to tell you you're over-reacting." Softening his hold, he ran his fingers lightly over the tense muscles and felt Sam shudder.

"Josh," Sam's voice was low and intense, but there was warning in there too. Sam swayed slightly, and Josh realized that it was probably a very good idea to get Sam sitting down.

He laughed, and stepped back from Sam. "Yeah," he said, and gestured for Sam to follow. Sam did, sending him a quizzical look.

As they stepped inside Sam's neat living room, the blinking light of the answering machine drew Josh's attention. "When was the last time you were home?" From the number of messages, either Sam had a vast, and unknown, extended family or he hadn't checked his messages for days.

Sam didn't look up at him. "Well, I changed here Wednesday night."

"And the last time you slept here was Tuesday?"

Sam grimaced. "Actually, I couldn't get to sleep. I stopped by your place - "

"Just long enough to wake me up," Josh added, teasing gently.

Sam continued as if he hadn't said a thing. "Then decided to go straight into the White House."

"You know that avoiding your bed won't make it go away, right?" The words were harsh, but he hadn't meant it sound that way. Sam rolled his eyes, and Josh realized Sam knew him well enough to recognize that sometimes he just didn't think before he opened his mouth. "You need a good night's sleep."

"But…?" Sam sent a worried look over to the corner of the room. Josh spotted the phone sitting next to Sam's couch.

"Easily fixed." He walked over and followed the phone cord to the wall, and disconnected it. "What about your bedroom phone?"

"You know where it is." He wasn't sure if Sam looked exhausted or queasy. Either way, it would be a good idea to get him out of those clothes. Sam had stopped and was just watching Josh navigate his way around the couch in the semi-darkness.

"Okay, we'll both go to your bedroom. I'll unplug the phone and you can get undressed. Deal?"

Sam nodded and yawned loudly. "Sorry," Sam apologized, and his voice was almost drowned by another yawn.

"You really do need a good night's sleep," Josh said as he took Sam's arm and led him through the doorway. Sitting Sam down on the edge of the bed, he crouched behind the bedside cabinet, tracing the cord back to the wall and pulling it out. By the time he turned back around, Sam had already shed his suit and shirt, and was getting into bed in his boxers, undershirt and socks.

Sam settled under the covers, then turned back to him. "Stay?" he asked, as he reached a hand out to Josh, snagging Josh's jacket and giving it a light tug. "Okay, Josh?"

Josh smiled and reminded Sam affectionately, "You're far too drunk to do anything tonight."

"I know. Just stay," Sam pleaded softly. "Please?"

"Sure," he said, shucked off his shoes and jacket, and crawled into bed beside Sam. Sam jostled around for a bit, and then settled on his side. Reaching behind him, Sam pulled Josh's arm around him, effectively pulling Josh close against his back. "Go to sleep, Sam," Josh whispered and pressed a kiss to Sam's dark hair.

A few peaceful minutes later, Sam spoke again. "I still think I was wrong. About us."

Almost asleep, Josh murmured back, "Why?"

"I just…" Sam stopped and looked over his shoulder at Josh. "You remember what I said about rules?" Josh remained silent and Sam continued, "About initial conditions?"

Josh nodded. "Doing the right thing and getting the wrong answer?" Stifling a yawn, he muttered, "If you expect me to do equations after midnight, the answer will definitely be wrong."

Sam settled back into the pillow and stretched his legs against Josh's. "That's what I think I got wrong. The right thing."

"What?" Josh pushed himself up on one elbow to watch Sam.

Sam's eyes were closed in the darkness. "You're always told that lying is the wrong thing to do. Everyone does it, but it's still wrong. So it stands to reason that anything you have to lie about is wrong as well."

"Go on." His arm tightened around Sam and he forced himself to keep breathing steadily.

"Well, maybe it's the right thing, sometimes. Maybe it depends on your intentions," Sam said gently.

"What does that mean?" Josh asked warily.

"It means I think I gave up on us for the wrong reasons." He felt Sam's hand wrap around his and squeeze gently.

Josh shifted, and stared at the bright numbers on Sam's clock. "Things haven't changed. If anything, we'd have to be more secretive."

"I know that," Sam chided, sounding slightly annoyed, which was oddly comforting. "But I still want to try."

Drifting off to sleep, he felt himself nodding against Sam's back and, he sleepily hoped that Sam understood.


End file.
